Life's Blood
by Crazyhumor
Summary: The vampire Apocalypse is as horrible as she thought it would be, only made worse when she decided to play hero and rescue a smart-mouthed criminal. Maybe.


**Well I'm not sure if this is any good but whatever. This is AU and it Bamon mostly. Any questions ask away.**

Chapter 1 Cowboy

Making a whole bunch of racket in the _vampire_ apocalypse is like smearing your hand in honey and then sticking said hand into a beehive of angry wasps – not a good idea. A damn bad idea, actually. So, when the loud pop of a gunshot echoed through the empty streets of Washington D.C., Bonnie squinted in the offending sound's direction and froze. What comes after the sound is nothing but thick and eerie silence, as if the light, humid breeze that had been blowing only seconds before stopped to take a listen.

From the top of the abandoned bar she'd taken refuge on, she's merely a dot on the cities skyline. Another shot chases the last one, and she crawls forward on the belly, loose gravel digging into her arms and legs, and peers over the ledge, green eyes wide with disbelief.

White teeth sank into her bottom lip causing her to wince sharply and curse herself mentally for biting the cracked and bleeding flesh for the millionth time. She lets out a shuttering breath, which goes unheard as the first bone-chilling screech fills the air.

The first of a slew of vampires came barreling down the street on her right, sending chills shooting down her spine. Twelve weeks ago when you would have asked her to describe a vampire she would have said things like: pale, old, graceful, blood thirsty, and as portrayed by Hollywood, usually otherworldly beautiful – if you're into pale skin, freaky eyes, and blood lust anyway. She might have even said they sparkled and were destined to fall in love with bland, senseless teen girls with an art for fainting at the worst times. But that was twelve weeks ago when she had been oblivious, and frankly, stupid. Now she was hip to the game, eyes free to see the truth, no longer ignorant to the honest to God truth about the world – vampires aren't anything like the movies claim them to be. They're ugly creatures with leathery, gray skin, thin bodies, millions of sharp teeth, semi-clumsy with freakish strength. They had no problem moving around in daylight however, that would have been too easy. But there were rumors, rumors that their were vampire leaders, ones that were like the movies – beautiful and strong. But Bonnie didn't believe that. She couldn't, she didn't want too. The ugly ones were bad enough.

She could see the first vampire reach the building down the street and throw its body head first into the glass doors, the others follow suit, shrieking their dead hearts out. Its hard to believe some of them use to be human, maybe even people she knew.

"You're going to have to work a little harder then that to get a piece of all of this manly goodness, you over-grown bedbugs!" The strained voice is barely heard over the shrieks and cries of the monsters, but Bonnie hears him just fine. Her eyes climbed up the building and watched as a man hangs haphazardly off the side of the building, aiming at the vampires screeching below. Her face twisted into a look of pure disdain as the idiot shouts like a warrior princess and lets loose a few more shots.

It's like someone was banging a hammer against a metal lid, to her ears anyway.

Bonnie's breath catches in her chest when one of the vampires below turns from the building the dumb-ass was shouting from and sniffed the air in her direction. She slammed her body down so hard her teeth clink together painfully as her chin makes contact with loose roof gravel. Her own breathing filled her ears like a roar. She was sure the vampires below could hear her. Hear as her heart tried like mad to escape from her chest.

She counts to ten, and lifts her head, peeking over the edge. The vampires, all of them, had their attentions focused on the lunatic still shouting from the rooftop.

Another shot fired off. She crawled backwards, still on her belly, ignoring the pinch of the rocks cutting into her flesh, she moves back towards the door leading into the building. She's not dumb enough to stick around with the someone stupidly ringing a dinner bell, luring dozens of vampires right to this once blissfully quiet street. But if there was one good thing about some suicidal redneck shouting from the rooftops it was the fact that the vampires would be focused on him and not her. All she had to do was move noiselessly - move quieter than the nitwit.

The bar is small. One of those little hole in the wall places that even if she had been old enough to step foot inside, she wouldn't have, for many reasons. Her skin wasn't the right complexion being the number one reason. The front windows were all blown out and the shelves were empty. Blood stained the walls, a long streak connecting to the walls.

Sweat sat heavily against her brown skin, long drips slid down the back of her neck and down her back; the air was hellishly hot on this summer day. She stood near the counter and pulled her machete from its sheath in her waistband, and twisted it around expertly and distractedly between her fingers.

 _Crack._ Yet another gunshot filled the air. She gently shook her head, and stared at the broken door across from her, eyes tracing over the line of sunlight reaching into the darkened bar. She twists the hand holding the machete, left, then right, her bones cracking with each twist. She wished she had a gun even though she had no idea how to use one. At least she would be smart enough not to go around shooting randomly and yelling out obscenities like some crack smoking cowboy, wasting ammo and shit.

She waited another beat before she moved, picking up the backpack she had left beside the counter filled with the few things she could find inside the place after pulling out a plain black cap and shoving it on her head. A large jar of unsalted peanuts, a couple bottles of water, a couple of sodas, a bowl full of wet wipes, and half a bottle of well-hidden whiskey, were the only items inside the bag. She had also raided the restroom, taking the toilet paper. She also found a bottle of 'prescription' medicine in the office behind the bar with the whiskey – pain meds.

She's at the door, hand wrapped around the handle when she realizes its quiet.

The crazed gunman was now silent and the howls had quieted.

(Blood)

A soldier saved her life, a runaway, a deserter (she could tell when she had seen the crazed look in his eyes and torn uniform), a man who likely could accurately be called a coward by some had looked into her eyes and saw _something_.

"You can survive this," he had said, hands shaking as he pressed the keys of his truck into her hands. She had taken them, wide gaze stuck on the mess of bloody flesh that was suppose to be an arm.

"Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid. Take that fear and turn it into rage," he had said, eyes glazed and face pale. She had gone, she had left him. She regretted it everyday after. She hadn't even said thank you. He had been the one to leave first though, walking back towards the woods she had just shot out of, vampires on her heels she had almost been hit by his truck when she had blindly ran out into the road.

She had driven away, his screams following her.

(Blood)

The truck had saved her life for about two days. Unfortunately, in this new world, much like the old one, when desperate people see something you have that they don't and want, they want to take it.

"Give me the keys, and your weapons," was always their orders, cold steel waving in her face, held between trembling fingers. The smell of a recently fired gun drifted up her nose when he pressed it against her temple. She could smell blood and the mans sweat, all mixing together, yanking her heart into her stomach.

 _Take that fear and turn it into rage_ The man's words filled her mind and repeated itself in a continuous loop. The man with the dead eyes who had saved her life filled her mind. He had given up his life for her, to give her a chance with this truck. She couldn't allow them to just take it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she had said, voice even, calm. She must have been convincing because they had hesitated. She had moved then, fingers wrapping around a wrist, she pushed, and a gunshot rang out.

They darted away right after, because a loud screech had followed the gunshot. The vampires had heard and they would surely come.

Two stayed back, one smacking his gun over her head the other stealing the keys out of her pocket. They drove away in her truck, taking everything that was inside, the man's gun and other supplies he had left inside. She had no time to mourn the things because she had to hide from the vampires. She had found an old dusty shed to pull herself into.

(Blood)

She had almost given up back then, that is, until a rusty machete fell from the old work bench inside the shed and nicked her thigh, the pain like a wake-up call zap. She had already failed at keeping the man's truck, she couldn't just go and die in some filthy shed. She was afraid, but the man who had saved her life had essentially said that it was okay, but she couldn't give up, not when someone had given up there life for she could live. She had decided then, bleeding from her head, afraid, and in pain on that dusty shed's floor that she couldn't give up.

Bonnie took a step out of the bar, machete in hand, she slid around the side of the bar. She's across from a shopping center when she sees it after taking the long way around to this street. An old van, ones like what her and her friends use to joke were the type usually on kidnappers drove. It was sitting along the curb. She had stared at it for a long time, unsure and hesitant, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Nothing came, nothing happened. Not a sound. Quiet was always good, very good. She took a few steps forward before she stopped abruptly.

A man laid on the ground on the other side of the van, unconscious. She could see him between the van's bottom and the ground. His body shuddered with every breath he took.

(Blood)

She had just stepped forward when the man let out a low groan before quieting completely. She pulls up short when she's standing on the other side of the truck, next to him. Her wide eyes dart over his sweaty and face, eyes lingering on the wound on his neck. Her grip tightens around her machete.

People became vampires when they were bitten and drained dry. She couldn't tell if the man's wound was a bite mark, but she couldn't take a chance. His skin was pale, but not gray – a sign that someone was turning into a vampire. Still. She twisted her wrist right then left and chews on the inside of her cheek, watching him. _Pop, pop, pop_

She waited, but nothing happened. His breathing never stilled, his cheeks didn't sink in, and his eyelids didn't pop open, revealing dull red irises.

After another moment she bends down next to him, her fingers sliding to the area of bloody skin above his wound, looking for a pulse. A light one fluttered beneath her finger tips. She frowned deeply, he needed help. Her eyes darted up to the van. She stepped forward, over the man, and pulled the passenger door open. Her green eyes dart around the small front seat cabin before reaching for the dashboard compartment and pulled it open.

She's actually surprised to find a travel first-aid kit, small and missing quite a few items. She stepped back out of the van and bent back down beside the man, kit in hand. She eyes the man's wound, tugging down the collar of his black T-shirt with shaky fingers.

"I'm not finished yet," hearing his voice nearly made her scream. He groaned, eyes popping open. They were lightest blue she had ever seen anyone's eyes be, finding her but seeming to look straight through her. He wasn't really here _here,_ she could tell. Her wrist home to the hand that held her machete twitched. "I think its time for you to leave, beautiful. I...I sorry you've been a victim of my charm, but I won't be making you any coffee an-"

His eyes fluttered shut. Bonnie blinked, then she blinked again. She recognized that voice. She debated and argued with herself. Should she save him? That was the question.

Bonnie flinched, a sudden shriek filling the air. She looked behind her, down the road, back towards downtown Washington D.C. Another shriek answers the first ones as if the creatures were communicating with one another.

She had to go – _now_!

Decision made, Bonnie stood fully before bending over, wrapping her hands underneath the man's armpits and pulling. She grunted and strained to pick up the man.

"You're going to have to help me, cowboy!" She tugged on him again. "You don't want to die here, right? Come on!" She used all of her strength to drag the man to the side of the van and slide open the door. She used whatever was left to push him into the back cab of the van, none to gently. She would worry about that later.

She closed the door before quickly dashing to the driver side of the van, hands searching for keys. She finds them in the most obvious place, the sun visor. She jams the key into the ignition and turns, the van roars to life. She shifts the van into drive before slamming her foot down on the gas.

(Blood)

She drove and drove until she found herself on a abandoned back road, dusty and abandoned, ancient. It had obviously not been used since way before the vampire apocalypse. It was getting dark, so, she parked and killed the lights and chewed worriedly on her lip. Night wasn't the perfect time to be out in the open.

She tugged free the mini flashlight that had been hanging from her pants, grabbed her machete and the first-aid kit, backpack on her back, and stepped out of the van, moving around the back of the van. She looked around quickly, eyes scanning, ears open. She quickly slid open the side door and stepped into the darkened cab which filled with late afternoon sunlight. She left it open for she could see what she was doing.

She took a shuttering breath as she shinned the light down on the man. He was on his back, arms and legs spread out. She glanced behind her, off into the woods behind her. She had to do this quickly.

She bends down next to him, tilts his head away, and pulls down the collar of his bloody shirt. She examines the wound. It's not a bite. She can see that now. It's a knife wound. Relief floods her.

"Alright, cowboy, lets see what I can do," she mumbles softly. She shrugs off her bag and digs out the wet wipes. She began to clean the wound, trying to be careful of the jagged, painful looking cut. The man twitched every now and again but remained unconscious. When its clean, she carefully pours water from one of her precious water bottles onto the wound.

The man is sweating and breathing heavy. She brought the bottle to his lips, she propped his head up against her leg and poured the water into his mouth. He drank without much prompting. After he was finished she closed the vans door and propped herself against it, eyes trained on the sleeping man.

(Blood)

He comes back to the world of the living with a long gasp. His hand goes to wound on his neck, which she had wrapped with a bandage. He curses and sits up too quickly, his body swaying dangerously, dark hair plastered to his face with sweat.

"You're hurt," she told him, as if that wasn't already obvious. Morning sunlight was shined in through the small window gate that separated the front of the van from the back.

He groaned. "Where are we?"

"About ten miles outside of D.C."

"Is my brother here?" He slurred.

Bonnie blinked, a second later it clicked. His eyes were still glazed over, he was still not here... _here_. He also doesn't seem very happy, brows furrowed with hostility.

"Yeah," she lied. He relaxed.

"Tell him to come here. Tell him I've been looking for him. Went through hell getting here," he said softly, eyelids drooping. He continues to sway.

"He's coming back... he had to step out for a while," she scooted closer to him, her hand finding his shoulder. She gently pushed him back down, his head resting on her balled up jacket she used as a makeshift pillow for him. "Just go to sleep."

His eyes are closed before his head even hits it.

She backs away from him again, watching his face. He was looking for someone, his brother. She wondered was his brother looking for him. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and bit her lip.

No one was left to look for her. Her dad and grandmother had lost their lives early on, her mother had always been gone, and her friends... Elena and Carolina, she had no idea what happened to them, but she didn't have a lot of hope, they hadn't been in Mystic Falls when she had made it back from her family vacation trip from hell. No one had been left in Mystic Falls.

She takes a slow breath in then out. She wondered if his brother was alright.


End file.
